What's a Girl to Do
by PrettyPatterns
Summary: I wish you both nothing but happiness" he said, finally. And with that, he poured himself another scotch. It was his sixth, but she didn't need to know that. First fic!


_A/N First fanfic ever! I've been hanging around this site for years, and I would have never in a million years thought my first fic would be in Gossip Girl. Then again, I suppose it's as good a fandom as any to start writing in. But I digress. This may be just a one-shot, or it could turn into something more. It all depends on what you think, and on how much time I have._

_This is set after/around the time of Gone with the Will. Also, it is un-betaed._

_Disclaimer: I don't own any part of Gossip Girl. I'm just a fan, and here is my fic._

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Today is Claude Farreau's first day at St. Jude's. So naturally, today is a very important day at Constance Billard's.

Groups of excited girls are huddled all over the steps of the school, all muttering about this affluential Frenchman. Descriptions range from devastatingly handsome to impossibly charming. Some say his father shipped him to the UES in the hopes that he would abandon his wild-boy ways. Others say Claude came in search of a nice, clean American girl. But only one thing's for sure: he is Blair's. To the dismay, but not at all to the surprise of her fellow students, she had claimed him at his own welcoming party not 24 hours after his arrival.

Blair's reasons for snatching up the fresh meat were, as usual, impure. Being rejected repeatedly by Chuck over the past few months had damaged her self-esteem, but more importantly, damaged her reputation. She had to show everyone, including herself, that she could get any boy she wanted. Even Chuck would submit to her in time. Making him jealous by going out with Claude should certainly help things along. Which reminded her, she needed to find Chuck and rub this in his face. Unfortunately, he'd been absent from school for days, and Blair was forced to rely on intel from strippers to keep up on his activities. But that was an entirely different problem. For now, Blair was going to enjoy being the girl everyone wanted to be once again.

As she strode onto the school property, Blair basked the jealous faces of her peers.

"Morning girls" she said as she seated herself calmly among her posse, pretending to be unaware of what everyone was gossiping about.

"Good morning Bair" sighed Serena, also trying to ignore the Claude situation, although for a more noble reason.

"We were all just talking about Claude", one of the girls chimed in after a moment of awkward silence. "You're probably the luckiest girl in the Upper East Side right now."

Blair let out an ugly laugh. "Oh believe me, luck had nothing to do with it. I'm just, you know, irresistible to those mature….cultured European men. They want class, and, well…"

Blair's ego-stroking was interrupted by the unharmonious chorus of dozens of cell phone beeps.

_Gossip Girl here. I know you're all busy awaiting the arrival of the new C (Claude Farreau that is) but I thought I'd do the old C (Chuck Bass, remember him?) a favor and let you all know he won't be coming to school today. One of my loyal "call girls" just called to say that poor Chuck has been up-Chucking all over himself all morning. What a mess! She also tells me Old C had a thing or two to say about New C while they were "talking" last night. Something about breaking his neck if he went near Blair again? Yikes. But I wouldn't worry if I were Claude. I mean, what is Chuck going to do, vomit on his shoes?_

_You know you love me, GG_

What was harmless chatter now erupted into fierce gossip on the stairs of Constance.

Cruel laughs hung in the air and judging eyes snuck glances at Blair. She didn't really know how to feel. Part of her was ecstatic that her plot to make Chuck jealous had worked perfectly. He was still clearly in love with her. However, part of her was angry that he was continuing to act like such a stubborn child.

"Chuck has really gone off the deep end since his father died" exclaimed one of Blair's clique with faux concern.

"No one knows how to grieve like Chuck Bass" Serena said quietly, as she was still trying to stay out of the entire mess.

"No, Serena" corrected Blair arrogantly, "drinking yourself into oblivion is pretty much the most cliché way to grieve ever." Blair stood abruptly and walked into the school without another word.

* * *

Chuck was aggravating her. Here she was, trying to learn Calculus, but all she can think about is fucking Chuck Bass. Something had to be done.

There were actually quite a lot of things that Blair Waldorf had to do. That was how she preferred it. Having things to do made her feel needed. And Blair knew from years of being ignored by people that meant something to her that being needed is much better then being wanted.

That was why she was so frustrated with Chuck. Chuck wore his autonomy more proudly then he did his favorite scarf. He was Chuck Bass. He needed nothing.

Of course, anyone who could read a tabloid knew the drunken man-whore that was Chuck Bass was in desperate need of something. Luckily for him, Blair Waldorf knew what it was.

None other then Blair Waldorf herself, of course.

After school, she was going to find him and save him and he would love her forever. Sure he was Chuck Bass, but she was Blair Waldorf. He may be a shameless billionaire, but she never gives up.

* * *

Chuck heard the door to the Victrola open easily because he was the only one there, but he didn't turn to see who it was. It had to be Blair. God, he could almost smell the smugness from where he was seated at the bar.

Sure enough, Blair greeted Chuck with a gloating grin. "My, my, it's a little early to be drinking, isn't it? This wouldn't be because you heard about Claude, would it?" she said, her grin widening. Chuck took a sip from his tumbler but said nothing. Blair continued, "Because a little birdy told me you were quite angry about it last night. They said that after a few drinks you were swearing to break his neck if he touched me". Blair was enjoying this all too much. Chuck continued to stare at the various bottles adorning the wall behind the bar. "I wish you both nothing but happiness" he said, finally. And with that, he poured himself another scotch. It was his sixth, but she didn't need to know that. As long as he didn't have to stand up or look her in the eyes, she wouldn't find out.

Blair was beginning to be angered by Chuck's nonchalance. "You know, if you would just admit that you loved me you probably wouldn't need to spend ten hours every day brooding in dark places. I could easily see you getting it down to five." Chuck laughed rather loudly into his drink, spilling some of it onto bar. Chuck winced, hoping he would get away with that drunken mistake, but Blair was far too observant.

"Oh my god" Blair said with a hint of both disgust and concern "you're drunk, aren't you!" Chuck didn't see any way he could redeem himself, so he finally turned to face her. "I do believe we have a winner, folks!" he belted to no one. He sucked down the rest of his scotch, then poured himself another and swallowed it as well.

Blair stared at him with a mixture of confusion and annoyance. "And that would make it exactly how many?" she asked, genuinely curious. You just never knew with Chuck. He sighed, and rolled his eyes to the ceiling as if he was giving the question some serious thought. "More then seven, but less then ten." He answered. "I think. Hold on a second." He poured himself another generous helping of the alcohol, then swallowed it in two gulps. "Ok, so now it would be more then eight, but less then…then…eleven." He was slurring his words quite badly, and Blair began to stare at him with a look of concern.

"What the hell Chuck, is this all about me?" she asked angrily.

Chuck laughed again. "Well it's always about you isn't it? Even when it's not. AND IT'S NOT." he finished loudly.

"Well then would you just tell me what it is about then for Christ's sake!" she said, a bit hurt. "You haven't been coming to school, and you've been drunk or high or both the last few times that anyone's seen you out in public, and it's really starting to scare us!" Blair shouted exasperatedly.

"Us?" Chuck laughed incredulously. "Who the hell cares about what I'm doing? The last time I checked, you're the only one here checking up on me, and you only came to gloat about your new…French…FUCK BUDDY!"

"What? No!" Blair replied automatically. Chuck laughed into his glass again, this time spilling it onto his shirt. "Well, that may have been one of the reasons" she corrected, "but I really am worried. And Lily and Eric and Nate and Serena, they're all worried too."

Blair looked at Chuck nervously, hoping her plea had registered somewhere in his inebriated brain. Unfortunately, Chuck's attention was mainly focused on keeping his eyes open at this point, and he barely heard what Blair had said. "Chuck?" she said, hoping to get any sort of reply out of him. He lifted his head at the sound of his name, then promptly lost his balance on the small bar stool and fell to the floor. Blair wasn't able to catch him. She really hadn't expected that to happen. Perhaps he was even drunker then she thought. She bent over to pick him up, but he pulled her to the floor along with him. "I'm just trying to have fun" he said with a jarringly sad voice. Their faces were uncomfortably close.

"My entire life, Bart treated me like a coworker. Everything was either business, or _nothing._ And he was so goddamned unhappy. No matter what I did, he was unhappy. He…I remember once…" Chuck paused and furrowed his brow. "So, so, why not drink and do drugs and fuck whores?! Why not have fun? It's not like anyone cared! And…and if anyone ever did pretend to care about me, it was because of the crazy shit I did!" Chuck swallowed, and loosened his grip on Blair. "This is me, Blair. The drinking, the partying, the women…it's what I am to everyone else. I'm just….I'm just…" Chuck trailed off, his face contorting with a myriad of emotions.

Blair stuttered, not knowing what to say or how to help him. She couldn't decide what made sense, and what was just drunken rambling. She had little time to think, as Chuck suddenly grabbed the sides of her head and pulled her mouth towards his. Without really thinking about what she was doing, she allowed him to kiss her. It's not like the kiss meant anything when he was this far gone, plus she had to admit she was enjoying it a little. Even hammered out of his mind and in existential crisis, Chuck was an unbelievable kisser. Surprisingly, it was Chuck who broke the kiss. He stumbled to his feet, then ran a few steps before falling to the ground again and throwing up.

After ridding his stomach of alcohol, alcohol and more alcohol, he rocked back on his heels and leaned against a bar stool. He knew drinking on an empty stomach would lead to this, but he did it anyways, again and again. He grimaced, wiped his mouth, and pulled his knees up to his chest. Blair stood up and walked over to his side. He couldn't tilt his head to look up at her without risking another vomiting spell, so his eyes remained on the dry carpet in between his feet. They stayed like this for a couple minutes in silence, before Blair figured it was safe to talk again.

"Feeling better?" she asked with as much malice as sympathy.

"'feel fantastic" mumbled Chuck.

They didn't talk again for a while. Something about this moment felt safe; nothing was happening. Neither person knew what to do next, and for those few minutes, neither person cared. It was as though time had stopped in that empty barroom, and all that was happening outside that room ceased to matter. There was only a tired girl and a drunk boy in the entire world, and they weren't doing anything at the moment.

Unfortunately, that moment ended and the rest of the world slowly faded back into existence. Blair extended her hand towards Chuck, and he took it without saying a word. She pulled him up and he swayed and he brushed himself off and he didn't look her in the eyes.

"I'm sorry" said Chuck, unsure of what he was sorry for.

"It's okay" she replied, unsure of what was okay.

He passed out the moment he hit the seat of his limo, and Blair watched him with envy the entire ride to The Palace. When they arrived, however, her expression changed to one of annoyance as she tried to revive him. It was the seasoned limo driver who got Chuck to his feet in the end, and Blair who led him back to his room. Chuck remained silent the entire time, clearly on the verge of oblivion.

When they arrived at his suite Chuck made a beeline for the toilet. Blair stood at the bathroom door long enough to make sure Chuck wasn't going to choke on his own vomit and die, then she left. There was nothing else she could do.

_A/N Well, there ya go. Review, I beg you. Like I already said, this is my first fic, but that does not at all mean you have to go easy on me. I'm a big girl, I can take it. _


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